Belleville Rendez-Vous

Like a gigantic Banana Split decked out in sparklers, or the return of the Premiership after a barren, tournament-free summer, Belleville Rendez-Vous is a completely giddy pleasure. The first feature length animated film from the Oscar nominated director Sylvain Chomet(The Old Lady and the Pigeons) this is a joyful and sweetly affecting tale of devotion.
Champion is a lonely, orphaned boy whose melancholic Gallic features make him a ringer for Gerard Houllier when France failed to make the 1994 World Cup (or when he’s watching Bruno Cheyrou turn out in a red shirt – a depressingly regular occurence).
After Champion is adopted by his adoring club-footed grandmother, Madame Souza, she quickly realises that the lad is only happy on a bike, and she raises him to become a Tour de France hero. However, during the mountain section of the race, Champion is kidnapped by the French Mafia (intimidating geometric hoods that look like coffins in black overcoats), who carry him off to the spectacular metropolis of Belleville.
Unbowed, Madame Souza demonstrates that she is not one to be parted with that which she loves best, and she braves the ocean in a pedalo to rescue her grandson. In Belleville, she befriends three eccentric Betty-Boop style performers from the 1930s, and this geriatric gang are soon squaring up to the mob.
This simple plot belies the fact that Chomet has managed to cram most of the 20th Century (but especially anything from the 1930s) onto his canvas, with references to everyone from Jacques Tati to Fred Astaire to Josephine Baker to Django Reinhardt. Meanwhile the animation style impressively marries 2D and CGI effects, gleefully touching on the demented classics of Richard Williams and Tex Avery, yet retaining something uniquely European in aspect – think Tintin and Felix the Cat hitching a ride on the Yellow Submarine and you’re almost there.
It’s a bit unfortunate that Belleville will only recieve a limited big screen outing, in a world where the most substandard Disney product (Treasure Planet, anyone?) runs for six months down the ‘plexes. Even more frightening is the thought that many will actually stay away when they realise there’s no big Bambi-eyed creatures on offer. The House of Mouse gets us all in the end. Scary, no?